


Ghosts Past

by astrangetypeofchemistry



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: A Major Character Is Dead, Aged-Up Character(s), But their death doesn't happen in this story per say, F/F, F/M, a wedding, and a mention of two, inspired by Kal Ho Na Ho, reflection of past events i guess, so inspired by bollywood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 09:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangetypeofchemistry/pseuds/astrangetypeofchemistry
Summary: How could she love autumn when she still missed the sunshine?





	Ghosts Past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ProbablyVoldemort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/gifts).



>  
> 
> _Every moment life is changing_  
>  Sometimes there’s shade, at times sun  
> Live every moment to the fullest  
> This very moment  
> May not be there tomorrow  
> ~Kal Ho Na Ho  
> 

The Boulangerie Patisserie had stood proudly on the corner next to Collège Françoise Dupont for 20 years, the owners having started their business, and their family simultaneously. And their daughter, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a proud, struggling, and energetic university student, was running around her room, scrambling to get everything she needed. 

“Alya, do you have any clue where in the world my present is?” she screamed down her phone, struggling to close the clasp on her heel. “I swear to god it was here last night.”

The aforementioned Alya Cesaire, proud expert on all things Marinette, laughed down the line, huffing as she struggled to stop her younger sisters from fighting. “I’m pretty sure you put it in your bag last night.”

The response causes Marinette to whine as she finally stomps her secured foot down, her hair falling out of the messy bun she’d thrown it into. Looks like she’d have to redo that as well. “Oh great. I’m so glad I had the foresight to do that.” And then, with a pitiful moan, she adds, “It would be if I hadn’t decided to change my bag.”

The clock sitting on her wall, a gag gift from an old friend to help make sure she wouldn’t lose track of time, continued taunting her. Marinette didn’t need to look at it to know she was running late.  _ Very _ late. 

“Oh honey,” Alya sympathized from her end, and Marinette can no longer hear any screaming from the Cesaire household. “You should stop spinning so fast. Life isn’t going anywhere.”

Except, Marinette thought to herself, it kind of is. Adrien Agreste, the same age as her, already had his life ripped away. 

But he wasn’t a thought for a happy day. He was the memory she lived while being blackout drunk, struggling to even stand up while her girlfriend helped keep her upright. 

Marinette made it to her meeting spot with Alya only two minutes late, finding the love of her life proudly wearing a tuxedo with the most killer heels Marinette had ever seen her in. 

“Look who actually made it,” Alya teased with a brief kiss, immediately interlocking their arms. Ignored were the stares of bigots. “I figured you’d trip down the stairs, thanks to your innate clumsiness.”

Marinette kicked her foot up behind her, her thin heel showed off proudly before her foot fell back in place. “Joke’s on you. I’ve managed some grace and poise.”

The disbelieving look on Alya’s face is ignored in favor of staring ahead. 

They manage to walk in some silence, with Alya randomly pulling Marinette closer every now and then. Marinette grinned at that before slowly pulling away, their arms linked together through it all. 

The occasion for Marinette’s pastel pink dress and messy bun that was still falling out? The wedding of Alix Kubdel and Lê Chiến Kim, Marinette’s old classmates from the college where she met Adrien. 

Someday, this wedding was supposed to be her and Adrien. Now, it’ll be her and Alya. She smiled at the thought, a little confused at the sadness that’d overtaken her. 

Adrien Agreste. The can of worms wasn’t meant for happy occasions, and yet, judging by the watery smile Alya shot her during the wedding ceremony, they’re all thinking about it. 

They waited until it was night, and the reception was dying down before someone stands up to mention him. It’s Rose Lavillant, the unanimously dubbed sweetheart of the group. “Adrien would have loved to be here.”

All their faces sobered, staring at each other in shared sadness. Marinette wondered if hers was the strongest, or if she was selfish in assuming it was. 

She’d known Adrien the closest. They’d shared a moment of tender forgiveness in the rain, and Marinette had fallen hard. Adrien, she’d found later, had fallen just as hard as her. 

He’d been so full of life, and to have such a terrible sickness tear it away still broke her, remembering the days she had to savor his every laugh, not knowing which would be the last. 

They’d all shared in that sorrow, Marinette realized. And that’s why, out of all the people she’d shared class with, Madame Bustier’s class at Collège Françoise Dupont had always been the one she’d found dearest to her heart. 

“You good?” Alya asked, her eyes searching, and Mariette smiled at her.

“Great.”

He’d been sunshine, brightening up their day. Marinette had always wondered how Adrien ‘s managed to throw puns and cheesy pick-up lines at her while her cheeks burned bright, how he managed to laugh scheme to help get Alix and Kim together at last, and the way he laughed with his whole, more genuinely than anyone else she knew. 

_ It’s because he was dying _ , she screamed to herself after he passed.  _ He wanted to enjoy his life. _

And maybe that’s why he bought her ridiculous teddy bears and flowers and rings until she stopped being uncomfortable around him, started retaliating to his clever lines with some of her own. 

Even now, as she stared at Alya talking to Max and Nino, she wondered why she still can’t let go of that sorrow, continues to hold on. Who’s to say that she and Adrien would still have been together if he hadn’t.

Died?

“It’s the not knowing that kills you,” Alya had told her at first, before. 

And then Marinette had found herself sticking to Alya, enjoying the way their hands pressed together or the way they knew each other so well. 

And she also remembered the nights she’d cried to Alya about not deserving her, an auburn princess, when Marinette was still grieving over Adrien. How could she love autumn when she still missed the sunshine? She’d almost broken up with Alya too, forgetting that love is more a choice than a feeling, a strong feeling that you choose to act on. 

But then Alya rolled over in her sleep when she stays over, or drooled at just the mention of coffee and Marinette remembered that she  _ loves _ Alya, but to expect her love of Alya to replace her love of Adrien is absurd. That’s like comparing who she loves more, which isn’t a fair comparison because they’re both equally wonderful people who deserve the world. 

And so what if she’s crying while saying this at her own wedding, her vows making herself blubber as her bridal party scrounges tissues. She means it, and as she told Alya, Adrien taught her to always be genuine in the things she says. 

It’s a principle she hopes to always live by. 


End file.
